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The Masses
These are the ever-famous masses of people in the center of Hong Kong as seen from the entrance to the Metro. He smiles at me and we nod. He seems to be a really nice cool guy but I can only continue to wait. A lot of kids go by talking to each other in Cantonese "Hello!" they call. Not to me this time but to the receptionist. A woman comes in and sits near me. She also smiles and waves but I continue to wait. Wishing I could speak to them. A woman walks in with her child, talking with her hands to the other two who waved at me. They sit down and soon after the child points at me and laughs. He comes to give me the information I asked for. I ask him some questions including if I could possibly get a job there. "Usually we ask the people we hire to be able to provide some service. Communicate with the people. We couldn't hire you as a cleaner." He's mocking me with his words. Of course I would have to communicate - learn Cantonese and sign language. How can someone who works with minorities treat another minority so poorly? "If I could communicate could I work here." "Well, the Hong Kong Association for the Deaf only hires
Tai Mo Shan Park
Looking down onto the center of the action - downtown from the highest point in Hong Kong, Tai Mo Shan. Hong Kong members." "What does that mean?" "People that are from Hong Kong." He leaves the small problem for the last. I'm confused and a bit flustered with him but the woman I talk to before I leave is very nice and helpful. Maybe it's like Dawson when we met him - he deals with too many people and thus treats them like crap. Whatever the reasoning it seems I, yet again, hit a brick wall. It seems won't be able to pursue this career option in this country. I will try once more and then the doors may close on the idea here at least. They can't teach me sign language just like I can't work with it here or in mainland China.
I spent an hour walking in circles earlier. "1200 kuai for one night" I didn't even know why I asked. I knew it was too much but it was the only place I could find. "Do you know where Paterson Street is?" I had asked them once before but the answer had taken me in a circle. Hong Kong has 245 islands and I was on the main one. So far it had been a
From the Ferry
This is a picture of Hong Kong taken from the ferry that I took from Zhuhai to Hong Kong. backpacker's nightmare. I thanked the Lord I had a backpack and not a wheely piece of luggage as I would have given up finding the place by now. Finally I found the street and the number. But no one was there except a security guard who finally directed me to the hostel.
As the fog curls over the road between the rocks on one side and the trees on another I wish I could paint. I look down in between the trees and there is the city in the valley below. Nothing but trees (and I suppose some animals) cover the land from here to there. The air is filled with the sound of wind, my own footsteps, some birds, and a dog in the background with an occassional noise of a car driving by or a plane passing. As I write it's getting darker and more and more crickets are coming out. What a contrast from the noises of the city and unhelpful people around me! I regret the signs into the forest "Unauthorized Visitors not Allowed" my feet wish to be off this awful concrete road. Away from the cars. Some cows walk by following only their own free will. They stop at a picnic area to bathe, shit, eat and relax. They stop to watch me as I walk by, invading their space enough for them to stop but not enough for them to do anything else or move. It gets still darker around me. The baby jumps on the mother cow's back. I walk to our own human park. Filled with undiscernable words. As I exit the park I keep my ears, as my dad would always say, peeled for a bus. Listening to the sounds of the wind - motorcycles, small cars. Every now and then my ear is tricked by sounds of big trucks or two cars at once. There, finally. A bus. I flag it down but it doesn't stop. Then I notice there's no number on the bus. It's not the one I want. I finally reach the bus stop. I must have walked two to three miles by now. Still. No bus. I stand and stare at the dog in someone's backyard and the little neighborhood store advertising they have Fanta. I wondered if they actually did. This was the kind of place where I ultimately want to live. Like Joan and Barry's place - in the middle of no where with peace and quiet all around but a huge city - much bigger than Taos - looming within one bus stop away.
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